


Little Weezy

by John_Faina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Best Friends, Complete, Crack Treated Seriously, Family Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Male Friendship, No Smut, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23932714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Faina/pseuds/John_Faina
Summary: The summer before the boys' fourth year at Hogwarts, Harry is staying at The Burrow. Fred and George are hard at work creating products for their joke shop. One day, their anti-aging sweet turns Ron into a much smaller version of himself, and Harry wonders whether or not it was an accident. All of them quickly discover that Ron didn't simply get smaller, but his child-like charm is...irresistible.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 128





	Little Weezy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I was about 16 in 2011 and posted it to fanfiction.net. I'd like to clarify that I'm not a Harry/Ron shipper in any fashion, but I went through a phase where I was curious as to what that relationship might look like. (Honestly did this with lots of different characters in different fandoms). This is a vastly different version from the one I originally posted, because I've altered the Harry/Ron relationship into the strong friendship I believe it to be rather than the romance, and because I've added Hermione. The original had a horrific lack of Hermione.  
> Posting it here because it's one of my most popular stories and, hey, you know what? It's pretty cute. No smut!

A sudden yell reverberated throughout the Burrow, disrupting an otherwise rare moment of quiet. Mrs Weasley looked up sharply from her knitting, though she was used to such things at this point in her life; Mr Weasley was at work, Percy scoffed impatiently in his bedroom, in the middle of quilling up a letter to the Minister for Magic about something or other; Ginny jumped, sending her new poster of the Weird Sisters fluttering to the floor; Fred roared with laughter while George struggled to smother his own, a hint of panic in his eyes, and Harry dropped the piece of toast he'd been trying to eat down in the kitchen.

"You - you - you think this is funny? You - PUT ME BACK RIGHT NOW!"

Harry widened his eyes at the ceiling (he was directly underneath Fred and George's room), where rowdy laughter could clearly be heard over Ron's yells. There was something off about the pitch...Hastily picking up his fallen toast, Harry chucked it into the bin on his way out the door. He passed by the den, where Mrs Weasley sat - "Try and make them sort it out, won't you, dear?" - and headed up the staircase, taking them two at a time.

Stopping as he reached his destination, Harry pressed his ear to the door. By now, George had joined Fred in laughing.

"Listen--Ronnie--we're really sorry--we just wanted to test--!"

"I know you wanted to bloody test it!" a strange voice shouted. Harry pressed his ear even harder to the door; the voice was unmistakably Ron's, but it sounded younger than Harry remembered it. Much younger.

Grinning, he turned the knob and strolled inside, half-afraid of what he was about to see. All three Weasley brothers jumped, shouting his name simultaneously.

Harry blinked at the scene before him. When he had arrived at the Burrow three weeks into the summer holidays, Ron had grown about two inches since the last time he had seen him at the end of their third year, thus gaining great height over him. Now, however, as Harry gaped at him, he was not an inch over four feet. In fact...he was positively tiny. Actually, he was...a child. A child whose clothes were far, far too big for him.

His eyebrows furrowed, Harry quickly looked up at Fred and George, a question on his lips. Fred managed to stop laughing long enough to go ahead and answer it.

"Harry--Ron agreed to test out this thing we're making, but it--it didn't go so well--"

"Didn't go so well?" Ron demanded, glaring up at him, and holding his arms out to the side, causing the shirt he was wearing to quite resemble a tent. An involuntary laugh escaped Harry as well, as an expression crossed Ron's face that was dreadfully familiar, yet somehow completely different from the one he was used to. And his high-pitched voice--there was nothing else for it--Harry collapsed against the door frame, joining in as well with the twins' laughter.

Ron was not amused. "Harry!" he said, as if this was base treachery. "Are you--? Have you gone mad? Look what they did to me!"

Harry made an attempt to straighten up and answer him, failed miserably, and ended up on the floor with tears of mirth in his eyes. Ron scowled darkly at him and turned to the twins.

"Are you going to put me right or not?"

Fred and George glanced at each other. "Well--" said George.

"--don't be too upset, little brother. But--the antidote to our experiment--" said Fred.

"--is not quite ready yet, I'm afraid."

"What?" Ron shouted, looking down at himself. "You mean I'm stuck like this?"

"Only for a little while," Fred assured him.

"How long?" Ron asked through clenched teeth.

"A few days at the most," said George.

"A FEW--"

"What were you trying to do?" shouted Harry, interrupting Ron before he could explode properly.

"We thought we'd try out a new sweet we've been working on--it's supposed to reduce the lines and wrinkles of age--but, well--"

"Apparently, it reduces much more than that!" finished Fred with a broad grin. "Don't worry--all we have to do is remake the sweet with the crucial ingredient's counterpart. Can't tell you what either of them are, though--don't want the secret getting out, see."

Harry nodded. "How old is he, d'you reckon?" He looked down at the tiny Ron, who had folded his arms across his chest angrily. "C'mon," he said to him, holding out a hand teasingly. "Let's go see Mummy, shall we?"

"Piss off," said Ron, causing the entire room to explode once more with laughter.

"Somewhere around four years old, I'd say," said George, peering at him closely. "You shouldn't use words like that, Ronnie," he scolded. "What would our dear mother say?"

The look on Ron's face then might very well have been intimidating if not for the circumstances--he merely looked like a red-headed, bad-tempered child.

"Really, Ron," said Harry. "Let's go to your mum and get her to shrink your clothes for you."

Still glaring at them all, Ron followed Harry out of the room, stepping easily out of the puddle of trousers around his feet. Harry grabbed them, slinging them over one arm. Ron's shirt was big enough on him to pass for a dress. Down the stairs they went, Fred and George remaining intelligently up in their room, and into the den where Mrs Weasley still sat. She looked up as they entered--and let out a shriek.

"Good heavens! Is that--? But that's Ron!" She stared at her youngest son as though he were Voldemort himself, completely forgetting about her knitting.

Ron huffed. "Hello, Mum."

"What--what happened?"

"Fred and George are what bloody happened--" Ron burst out, but Harry cut across him hastily.

"It was a little experiment gone wrong, I think--they're upstairs working on the antidote right now. He should be back to normal in a few days."

"A few days? No, no, surely, there's something else to be done," Mrs Weasley said, getting up from her chair, still staring at Ron as though he were quite likely to explode at any moment. "I'll just...let me consult my book...Ronnikins," she breathed. Ron rolled his eyes. "You look just like you did when you were little!"

"I know," Ron responded shortly.

"Oh, when I get my hands on those two--!" But before, she could tell them exactly what she planned to do, Mrs Weasley had swept Ron into her arms and hugged him to her tightly. "My little Ron," she cooed, combing her fingers through his hair. "Ooh, you were so precious!"

Ron struggled fruitlessly, the tips of his ears flaming. "Mum--don't--"

"I'd almost forgotten how small you were. How lovely and innocent..." She finally let him go, kissing him on his now red cheek. Ron wiped it off at once. Harry hid his grin with difficulty.

"We wondered if you might be able to shrink his clothes," he said, holding out the trousers on his arm.

"Of course, dear!" chirped Mrs Weasley, taking them and handing them to Ron. "You might want to get into them first, unless you want Harry to see you starkers."

Ron groaned loudly, and stepped back into the trousers, clutching them about his waist. With a wave of her wand, Mrs Weasley shrank each garment until they fitted him just right. Ron buttoned up the trousers and looked up at them.

"Well--what the bloody hell am I supposed to do now?"

"Ronald Weasley, you watch that tongue," Mrs Weasley said firmly. "I am going to check up on whether or not I'll be able to change you back myself and then I'm going to start dinner. If there's not a way--oh, when I get my _hands_ on those two!" And she stalked away into the kitchen, muttering to herself.

::::::

Dinner was an odd affair at The Burrow that night. Ginny and Percy, upon discovering that one of their brothers had been charmed into a small child, reacted much as everyone else had, first with shock and confusion, and then amusement. Or, in Percy's case, amusement badly concealed by his usual air of disinterest and self-importance. Mr Weasley thought the whole thing was positively brilliant, and only ceased raving and questioning when Mrs Weasley poked him sharply in the side with her fork.

"Er--I mean--that was very reckless indeed, boys," he told Fred and George. "Reckless and dangerous."

Harry and Ron grinned at each other.

The evening was spent teasing Ron and getting him to say things; it was outstandingly entertaining to hear a small kid speak in elaborate sentences, or, occasionally, use a curse word. His tone was no different than it had been, only the pitch of his voice had changed. And, as it turned out, he could still kick Harry's arse at Wizard's chess. Ron retained a rather smug attitude about this, until Harry threatened to lock him in the attic with the clanking, clattering ghoul--he was no longer bigger than Harry, and so would not be able to put up much of a fight. Ron stuck out his tongue at him, then blushed when he realised how childish it was to do so. Harry laughed.

As it neared time for bed, Mrs Weasley followed them up the stairs and shrank a pair of Ron's pajamas for him. They got into bed; she bent down and gave Ron a kiss on the forehead, running her hand through his hair as she had done earlier.

"Love you, dear," she whispered, perhaps so that she wouldn't embarrass him in front of Harry. Harry didn't mind. In fact, a part of him felt a wistful, hopeless longing.

"Love you too, Mum," Ron yawned, his eyes fluttering closed. It appeared that, though he still had the mindset he'd always had, his body was young, unable to handle too much exertion or lack of sleep. Mrs Weasley smiled fondly at him, turned and blew a warm kiss to Harry and left the room.

Harry had a nightmare that night. When he awoke from it, gasping and sweating, he found himself trying to hold onto the images he had seen...Voldemort and...Wormtail...some old man he didn't know...they were plotting...what? Murder? And something about the Quidditch World Cup...?

"Harry?" came a small voice.

Harry started, staring wildly around the dark room. Were they here now? What was going on? His breathing shallowed and he began feeling around for his wand before he realised that it was Ron was standing next to his cot, looking worried.

"Harry, I think you were having a nightmare," Ron said, taking a step closer to him.

Harry peered at this small version of his best mate, and struggled to catch his breath, while simultaneously letting out a sigh of relief, which caused him to choke. As he coughed, gasping a bit, Ron's expression turned concerned.

"What happened, Harry?" he asked, cocking his head. "Did you...see something?"

Harry jerked his head, forcing himself to sit properly upright. "Yeah--yeah--it was Voldemort a-and Wormtail--"

Ron flinched so violently at hearing Voldemort's name unexpectedly, that his small body almost couldn't handle it. Harry had to grab him and steady him before he hit the floor. "Sorry," he apologised quickly.

"S'alright," Ron muttered. "So what happened? Is he--?"

"He's plotting something," Harry told him, feeling absurdly as if he were telling a child this, even if he did have all of Ron's usual spirit. "I can't remember what...He killed this old Muggle man--I think he's plotting to kill--someone else--"

Ron's eyes were wide. He looked scared and this caused Harry's heart to ache in an odd sort of way.

"Ron--" he began, not really knowing what he was going to say. Ron watched him, waiting, terrified. "Ron, it's--probably nothing. Just a dream."

"A dream," Ron repeated. "Right. Yeah. Could be. I reckon you ought to tell Dumbledore, though."

"Yeah. Yeah, I will," Harry told him, finding himself speaking reassuringly. When Ron continued to look scared and worried, he found himself melting, all his own fears and concerns slipping away for the time being.

"C'mere," he said softly before he could stop himself. He didn't know what he was doing. Ron looked at him questioningly. He gestured Ron forward. "Can you--I mean, do you want to sleep on here with me?" he asked. 

"I--I don't understand," said Ron. "Why?"

"Well, I think it'll be easier for us to go back to sleep if--you know--"

"Harry."

"What?"

"Is this because I look like a frightened little kid who needs protecting? You have got that protecting-people-thing going on."

"What protecting-people-thing?"

"Hermione calls it a saving-people-thing, actually. You just have this instinct--"

"Well, what's wrong with it?" Harry interrupted, confused.

"Nothing! I'm just saying, I look like this titchy innocent bugger, so you feel like you have to protect me. You'll make an excellent daddy one day," he teased.

Harry scowled and shoved his face into his pillow.

"Fine. Go on to sleep then."

Ron hesitated.

"I wasn't trying to--"

"No, I know," Harry told him, feeling guilty at once. "My nerves are still rattled is all. Go back to bed."

Ron nodded. "Well, I mean--I can, if you like--" he gestured to the cot rather bashfully. Harry had trouble hiding his smirk. It really was difficult to hear past the small voice and see past the small body. The little freckles that were just visible in a patch of moonlight shining silvery through the window were, with no other word to effectively describe them, rather cute.

"Sure," he said, scooting over and holding the blankets aloft. Ron, after staring at him for a moment, climbed in underneath them.

"It's not like this is weird or anything," he whispered. Harry laughed quietly.

"It seems weirder to you, I bet. To me, you're like a little teddy," he said, knowing that this was sure to get Ron all riled up. Sure enough--

"I am not!" he snapped indignantly.

"Actually, you are," Harry insisted, poking at his side teasingly. Ron struggled to move away without falling off the cot. "You're _tiny--_ "

"I'm warning you, Harry--"

"What? You're going to try and get one over on me? Go on--give it your best shot." Harry poked his side once more. "I'm stronger than you now, don't forget."

Ron growled, jerking away from him. Harry thought he detected something more than menace in that growl...with a grin of delight, he poked Ron again, in the same spot as before. Ron emitted an all-too-familiar squeak and attempted to protect himself with his arms. Harry gave one more experimental poke, and Ron practically squealed with laughter. Harry stifled it with his hand, laughing softly himself.

"You'll have your entire family in here!"

"It'll be your own fault for bloody torturing me!" Ron yelped as Harry poked him and poked him. He broke into uncontrollable laughter, wiggling and thrashing about like an overlarge fish. Harry began to tickle him using all five fingers, unable to stifle the urge. Ron practically squealed and shoved at his hands, trying to throw him off, but had no luck at all.

"Harry--Harry, please! I can't take it, I can't take it--!"

Eventually, once he had brought tears of laughter to Ron's eyes, Harry relented. Ron lay there, breathing as though he had been held underwater for an hour; he tossed a half-hearted punch in Harry's direction.

"You idiot," he gasped. "Of course you understand that I'll be getting you back for that as soon as Fred and George put me right..."

Harry shrugged. "I was never going to get another opportunity like that, was I?"

"Always been a dream of yours, has it? Tickling me into madness?"

"I just like being bigger than you, for once," Harry corrected him. He grinned at his own expense. "I'm never bigger than anyone."

Ron suddenly gave a great yawn. "You just wait...when I'm two feet taller than you again..." He settled into the mattress, nuzzling Harry's pillow.

"Go to sleep," Harry said quietly.

"Merlin, Harry," Ron murmured, his tone annoyed. Ten seconds later, he was indeed fast asleep.

::::::

When Harry next awoke, Ron was still lying on his back, but he had sprawled out all over the place. One of his arms was resting on Harry, the back of his small hand on his chest; the other arm was hanging limply off the cot and he had somehow managed to shove a leg underneath Harry's own. If the cot had not been set up against the wall, Harry would have been half in the floor.

Blinking blearily, Harry sat up, causing Ron's arm to fall away from him. Surely it was not time to get up yet? He looked toward the window, trying to take in the light that was creeping into the room. The room was still dim, so it wasn't quite morning yet.

Harry yawned widely and fell back into his pillow, pulling Ron away from the edge of the cot as he did so. Ron groaned, shifting a bit, moving closer to Harry, who smiled, and carefully removed a few strands of red hair from his eyes and away from his freckled face, too sleepy to think about what he was doing. Ron shifted even closer to him, while turning onto his side facing the opposite wall, and emitted a plethora of sleep noises before settling down, his rump jutting into Harry's middle. Harry buried his grin in Ron's hair, giving a squeeze to his soft, smooth arm. Mrs Weasley was right--Ron had been precious when he was young, and that was a word Harry never thought he'd use in his entire life. 

Ron then reached behind him, felt around a bit, and pulled Harry's arm over him like a blanket, snuggling up to it with a contented little sigh.

His insides warmed with something he couldn't quite identify. He held Ron to him, his mind whirring at top speed. What did this mean exactly? He felt almost as if Ron were his at that moment. He knew it was ridiculous...

Perhaps it had something to do with the sweet Fred and George had tried to test. Maybe it was causing Ron to give off some sort of...cloud that rendered those around him doomed to overprotective instincts. Even in his own head, the idea sounded stupid...

::::::

"Oi, Fred! George!" Ron called, stomping huffily into the twins' bedroom. Harry followed behind him, his face rather flushed.

"We're working on it, we're working on it," said Fred, waving him away impatiently.

"No--listen, there's another issue."

George turned, his eyebrows raised. He scanned Ron quickly, and, when nothing appeared to be physically wrong with him, looked at Harry, who avoided his gaze, opting instead to stare at the floorboards.

"Alright. What is it then?" he asked.

Ron looked up at Harry as well, his blue eyes blazing. "Your sweet is making Harry act like a complete nutter."

Fred turned around at these words and came to stand next to George, looking curious. "But Harry didn't eat it," he stated questioningly.

"I know that," Ron said, "but--it still did something to him. He keeps--ruffling my hair and--and picking me up and about five minutes ago, he _hugged_ me and told me I was _sweet_! It was something in that--that thing you guys gave me. We both think so--Harry says he doesn't know what's come over him. Says he can't--he can't--what in the name of Merlin is so funny?" Ron bristled.

Both Fred and George were doubled over in laughter, holding onto each other for support. Harry glared at them with just as much intensity as Ron. Eventually, they managed to hiccup themselves back into sobriety. Fred, straightening up, told them, "Well, lads, we may have--er--put in an extra little something--"

"--that was supposed to have possibly caused the consumer to become, not only younger-looking, but--"

"--irresistible as well!"

"So it worked, then?"

Harry and Ron stared, horror-struck, at them.

"Irresistible?" Ron was the first to croak. Fred and George nodded happily.

"Of course, the strength of that irresistibility stems from the types of relationships the consumer has with the individual people in his or her life. And what those people already felt for the consumer. Say--Mum. She adores her Ronnikins already. Now that our special ingredient has apparently become active--" said Fred.

"--she'll have a harder time containing her motherly love than she usually does!" finished George triumphantly. "Prepare yourself for enough hugs and kisses to last you the rest of your life, little brother."

"Oh no," Ron groaned in misery.

"That's right," chirped Fred. "As for Harry--it looks like he adores the pants off you as well." He winked.

Harry, who had instinctively ran a hand through Ron's hair, jerked it back at once. They both blushed beet red and said nothing.

"I shudder to think what Hermione might do if she were here," said George, a mischievous glint in his eye. Harry scowled at him.

"Ginny's going to be revolting, of course. Almost as bad as Mum probably," Fred said, turning to George, very matter-of-fact, as if they were discussing the day's weather. George nodded.

"Yes, and Dad'll pinch his cheeks and do that chuckle--you know the one? Percy, thank heavens, probably won't have noticed anything's changed, the great prat--"

"I notice you two are immune," Harry stated dully.

"We never liked Ron much, did we, Gred?"

"No, not much, Forge. We've just been using him for stuff like this, really...not that it was intentional, mind you."

But no sooner than those words had been said, something incredible occurred; Ron pulled a hurt face at the pair of them (Harry suspected it was fake, but it tugged at his heartstrings all the same), and lowered his gaze to the floor. Before any of them knew what was happening, the twins' grins had faded, and they had rushed forward to comfort him.

"Wait a moment--we're sorry--we didn't really mean it--"

"Don't make that face, Ronnie--George didn't mean what he said--"

"Oi! You were the one who told him we only use him!"

"Well, I didn't mean it that way--"

Ron stared at them, obviously amazed. "Fred--George-- _shut up_." They fell silent at once; Ron appeared rather relieved, yet a bit pleased at the discovery that his brothers did care about him after all. "Get to finishing that antidote. I don't know how much more of this I'll be able to handle."

Fred was the first to recover; his eyes widened as he backed away from Ron as quickly as he could. George soon followed. They both nodded vigorously.

"Get out," they said simultaneously, pointing. Ron was quite happy to do so. Harry followed him out the door, utterly bewildered by the whole thing.

"Blimey," muttered Ron as they headed down the stairs, "it's going to be a long day."

Harry snorted.

They emerged into the kitchen, where, seated around the table, were Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny. Ron said not a word to any of them as they took their own seats.

"Good morning, dears," greeted Mrs Weasley warmly, setting plates of eggs and bacon in front of them, and kissing Ron on the top of his head. Ginny smiled shyly at Harry; he smiled politely back. "I must say it does look rather odd seeing the two of you come down the stairs together."

"Why?" Harry asked, swallowing his bacon.

"Ron's usually so much taller," Ginny explained, grinning. Mr Weasley followed her example, peering over the top of his issue of the Daily Prophet.

"Well, Molly, I'd best be going," he said, setting the newspaper upon the table. Pushing back his chair, he stood and kissed his wife on the cheek. "Good-bye all!"

"Bye, Mr Weasley." "Bye, Dad." "Goodbye, Arthur."

Ron had spoken without thinking; Mr Weasley smiled, bent down, and swept him up away from his breakfast, spinning him around once before setting him back in his chair.

"Dad!" Ron spluttered, looking quite dazed. Mr Weasley pinched his cheek fondly as everyone watched with varying degrees of surprise and amusement.

"See you later, my boy. I might bring you home something special this evening...how does that sound?"

"Excuse me?" said Ginny, indignantly as Ron's stormy expression cleared considerably and hopeful excitement took its place. "Just because Ron looks like a toddler doesn't mean he gets to have gifts!"

Mr Weasley blinked, glancing at her, and shook his head. "Oh...you're right. Sorry, don't know what came over me...Well, you know what? I'll get the both of you something! And Harry too, of course."

"No--Mr Weasley," said Harry, who felt that the Weasleys did quite enough for him already, "please don't--"

"How about a nice box of sweets? I'll pop in Honeydukes and get you all a box of sweets," Mr Weasley promised, ruffling Ron's hair, and stepped into the fireplace. Before anyone could protest, he had taken a handful of Floo powder and tossed it in as well, and was gone within a moment.

Harry and Ginny looked over at Mrs Weasley, who wore a bemused expression, her eyes lingering on the fireplace. Ron bent over his plate, shoveling the rest of his eggs into his mouth as quickly as possible. Harry thought he seemed determined not to say another word, and found that he could quite identify with this decision, the number of times he had wished to simply become invisible to avoid stares and whispers. Reaching over, he patted Ron's leg underneath the table. Ron gave a start and shot Harry a look.

Fortunately, there were no further incidents that morning. Once the breakfast dishes had been cleared away, Ron silently tugged on Harry's sleeve and jerked his head towards the front door. Catching the message, Harry lead the way, and they burst out of doors into the bright, warm sunshine. Ron let out a relieved breath of air, collapsing against the nearest tree stump.

"You won't be able to avoid them for days, you know."

"I'll do it when I can, then."

"Does all the attention really bother you?" Harry asked, curious, as he had never exactly got the impression that Ron ever minded that sort of thing. In fact, Harry had thought he downright enjoyed it.

"When your parents do it, it lessens the fun," Ron said. "Or any of your family really."

Harry frowned, wondering what it might feel like to be so used to receiving affection from one's parents that it became tiresome. Ron noticed his frown and figured out its meaning at once.

"I mean--" he began, pausing. He didn't seem to know what to say. "It's not so bad...I mean, it's nice, I suppose, I just--I'm not ungrateful or anything--"

"It's okay," Harry said quickly. "I understand."

Ron nodded. "Sorry," he added as an afterthought, looking quite ashamed.

"You don't have to apologise." Harry couldn't resist--he ran a hand through Ron's hair for about the fourth time so far that day, brushing it out of his wide blue eyes. As soon as he realised what he was doing, he yanked his hand back, blinking nervously. Ron stared at him for a full minute, and burst out laughing.

"Merlin, Harry--you really can't help yourself, can you?"

A smile tugged incessantly at the corners of Harry's mouth as well. He felt he ought to have warned Ron that his laughter was not advisable at this point--but in the end, there was no stopping it. Harry tackled Ron to the ground, chuckling along with him now, and sank his fingers into his soft middle.

"No--! Oh, not again--Harry--Harry--I can't breathe!"

Ron kept on laughing, breathlessly, until Harry sat back on his knees, relenting. Opening his eyes rather cautiously, it seemed, Ron rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up from the ground. He whirled around to face Harry, pointing dramatically.

"Am I to get that whenever I laugh in front of you, now? Don't--bloody--make--me--laugh!" He punctuated each word with a blow to Harry's shoulder.

Harry held up his hands in surrender. "Don't blame me! Your ridiculous brothers--"

A sudden shout from somewhere above them made them glance up. Percy had stuck his head out of his window.

"Would you mind very much keeping it down out there?" he called. "Your childish games and shrieking are very distracting!"

Ron folded his arms and glared up at him.

"Oh, don't look like that, Ronald. Your face will stick that way." Percy's tone had softened considerably, grown almost fond. They hardly had time to dwell on this before he had retreated back into his room. Ron glanced at Harry, who raised his eyebrows, grinning.

" _Argh_!" he cried, throwing himself backward onto the ground.

::::::

That evening found Harry and Ron sitting on the floor of Ron's bedroom, steadily working their way through a few Chocolate Frogs and a large box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, courtesy of Mr Weasley. Even Mrs Weasley had not been able to refuse Ron's pouting face when he'd begged her to let them take the sweets upstairs.

All the sugar and magic were, unexpectedly, making Ron rather more fidgety than usual. Harry watched as he darted about the room, trying to capture a Frog that had escaped its wrappings. He hopped onto the bed after it, then onto Harry's cot, teetering precariously, but when he made to jump onto his wardrobe and out of the open window, Harry seized him around the middle and hauled him back to the middle of the room.

"I think that's enough for you to be getting on with," he told him, chuckling.

"But I wanted to catch it!" Ron complained, plopping down onto the rug. "I've never had one get away from me before!"

"Yes, well, he was leading you to your death," Harry said, clearing away all the wrappings they had managed to strew about the place. "I suppose it's quite stupid of me to ask--are you the least bit tired?"

"No," Ron said at once, "why? Do you want to stay up? We could stay up all night if you wanted--"

His energy was infectious. Harry felt excitement mounting a bit as he said, "I doubt you can stay up all night..."

"No, I can!" Ron insisted. "We've done it loads of times in our dormitory, don't you remember?"

"Yeah--that was when you were older."

"I am older, I'm just--smaller."

"Exactly. I don't think you'll be able to handle it." Harry was only messing with him now; he didn't care how long they stayed up.

"I can, honest," said Ron, his expression eager. "C'mon, Harry, don't be a prat."

Of course, Harry could not have refused him even if he had tried.

::::::

An hour later, Ron was passed out atop his Chudley Cannons bedspread.

Harry, after watching him sleep for a moment, bent down and ruffled his hair gently, whispering, "Goodnight." 

It was only when he'd retreated to his cot for the night that Harry realised the impact of his actions, how they must have made Ron feel all that day. It couldn't be too pleasant to have your best mate fawn over you like an especially affectionate mother, Harry thought with a shudder, yet, he truly could not help it. He was going to curse Fred and George beyond their wildest imaginations one day for this. Fortunately, Ron seemed to understand to some extent. True, there had been occasions where he'd had to shove Harry away from himself, to stop him touching his hair or squeezing his shoulder, but it was done mostly in good humour.

The thing was, Harry marveled to himself, that Ron seemed to have a harder time keeping him at bay than his own mother--and that was saying something, for Mrs Weasley very nearly swooned each time Ron walked into the room. When Ron had said he was hungry that evening, she had disappeared straight into the kitchen and had not emerged for close to two hours, whipping up nearly everything they had, not excluding a one of Ron's favourites. Fred and George had mimed vomiting to each other at this, but Harry caught them shooting Ron fond glances more than once at the dinner table, right along with himself, Ginny, Percy, and Mr Weasley.

He fleetingly wondered why he was the one most affected, when Ron was neither his brother nor his son to begin with. He supposed it was because he loved Ron like a brother, and reacted the way he did because he wasn't as used to him as the rest of his family...Having friends was a somewhat new concept to him after all.

And with these thoughts, Harry fell into a restful, nightmare-free sleep.

::::::

"I mean, really, Fred, who came up with the idea to give it to him in the first place?" Harry overheard Mrs Weasley asking as they descended the stairs into the kitchen the following morning. "The poor thing's half-afraid to be in the same room with any of us--oh! Good morning, Ron, dear. Harry." She spotted them and smiled warmly. "I've just finished breakfast."

Ron walked rather warily over to the table and sat down. Harry sat next to him.

"Well--George thought--" Fred started, but George threw his brother a dark look and he backtracked. "That is to say--we thought we'd just put the finishing touches on it. The right ones. So we obviously wanted to try it out--and Ron just happened to be passing by--"

"I thought you tested everything on yourselves first?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow at them.

"Yeah!" exclaimed Ron suddenly. Everyone looked at him; he appeared unperturbed. "You had to have known the effects already, you gits!"

"But we didn't, honest!" said George soothingly.

"Okay--" said Fred, quailing under the stern look his mother was giving him, "there may have been a reason we didn't. But it was only a joke! Really, just a laugh. And, come on--it's pretty hilarious, even you have to admit, Mum--"

"--and we know how to put him right again," George insisted. "Tomorrow, I reckon--"

"Day after, at the latest," finished Fred.

"That is beside the point," said Mrs Weasley firmly, going over to Ron and placing her hands on his shoulders, squeezing them. "You two didn't know for certain what on earth would happen--you could have done him serious damage! Don't think for a moment that I've forgotten about the time you turned his teddy into a giant spider--to this day he can't stand the mere mention of them--"

Sure enough, Ron had shuddered ever-so-slightly; Mrs Weasley threaded her fingers through his fiery hair, continuing on. "Or, heaven forbid, the time you nearly got him to make an Unbreakable Vow - he could have died! And ought I dare mention the time--"

"Alright, Mum, we get it," George said quickly, yet having the intelligence to look slightly ashamed of himself. "It won't happen again."

"It had better not," she said. "Apologise to your brother."

Fred and George exchanged incredulous glances. George was first to speak.

"So sorry, Ronnikins."

"Yes, there is no power on this earth which can redeem us for the terrible, terrible thing we've done--"

"--and we are forever in your debt from this day forward, and only--"

"All right, all right," said Mrs Weasley snapped, "off with you."

Hanging their heads, the twins made for the stairs, and, to his slight confusion, winked at Harry as they went.

"A bit late to be having a go at them, isn't it?" Ron asked his mother around a mouthful of bacon sandwich.

"Nonsense," replied Mrs Weasley fondly. "And don't speak with your mouth full."

::::::

"Harry! Harry, over there! Quickly!"

Harry, hovering there in the air on his broomstick at about fifty feet, swiveled around at this outburst to stare where Ron was frantically pointing. He swore loudly and shot off in that direction, forcing himself to go into a dive as he neared the spot where the airbourne apple was about to hit the ground. With seconds to spare, he managed to catch it before soaring back to Ron, his heart pounding horribly in his chest. He'd never missed a catch--something that he prided himself upon and that Ron had always greatly admired.

Presently, Ron gaped at him, his small hands clutching the handle of his Cleansweep. He looked sort of odd perched there. "Are you mental?" he asked. "I threw it--and you just stared at me. What was that all about?"

"I--" Harry began, pausing as his face grew rather hot. In truth, when Ron had thrown the apple, he had seemed to lose a bit of balance, and Harry had feared that he would fall off his broom. He'd been making sure, without a thought to the plummeting piece of fruit, that Ron wasn't going to hurt himself. It would have been his fault if he had; he'd been the one to suggest they play Quidditch out in the garden.

Ron groaned then, slapping a palm to his face. "You were trying to protect me again."

Harry said nothing.

"I can take care of myself, you know."

"Not truly," Harry couldn't help but argue. "If something really awful were to happen, you would be almost helpless, small as you are."

"Oh, and you, the shortest kid in the year, underage, would be able to--"

"Look, like I said before--don't blame me for this." A warm breeze blew past them, ruffling their sweaty hair.

"Why not?" Ron asked, squinting in the sunlight. He looked suddenly angry. "You're the one who cared so bloody much about me before Fred and George gave me that thing to make you act like--Dobby ten times over--"

"What?" Harry burst out, momentarily veiled to Ron's child-like charms. "That's the stupidest reason--" he said. "Only you would think up something like that to complain about--"

"So I complain too much now, do I?"

"No--well, _yes_ , actually--but--what is _wrong_ with you?" Harry was bewildered. "You've been fine with all this, what--?"

"I think I've been rather understanding."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, nudging his broom a bit closer to Ron's. "And now you look like you want to haul off and jinx me."

Ron didn't respond right away, and avoided Harry's glare. When he did, however, his response was a bit of a surprise.

"I should," he said fiercely. Harry blinked. "I want you to stay away from me."

"S-stay away from you?" Harry repeated, not really comprehending what had been said.

"Yes. Until I'm back to normal, stay away from me, Harry. This isn't good."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He thought he maybe ought to apologise or something, but...he couldn't bring himself to do it. Ron was right anyhow--if Harry carried on acting the way he'd been acting, things would be weird between them. It looked like they already were. So, instead of coming back with some sort of heated retort, Harry nodded, lowering his eyes to his broom handle, and drifted off towards the back door, where he slowly dismounted. But, of course, he had to lift his eyes again to Ron, who was still hovering, to make certain that he was going to get down alright. Even from the ground, Harry saw Ron roll his eyes.

"Go away, Harry," he called.

"I can't," Harry called back, cursing the ridiculous instincts. "You have to come down."

"No, I don't," Ron said, shooting off for a distant tree. Clenching his jaw tightly, Harry hopped back onto his broom, zooming silently after him. He felt more angry now than protective, since Ron's words were beginning to sink in. Had their positions been switched, Harry would have been far more understanding--then again, Ron probably wouldn't have had the same issue, what with his caring and compassion being about the size of a Snitch.

Ron, upon turning and seeing Harry directly behind him, started and, with a yell, promptly rolled over on his broom, so that he hung from it like a monkey from a tree limb. He clung to it with both arms and legs while Harry darted underneath him, holding out his arms. Ron shook his head, trying to swing back around, but it was near impossible with the gust of wind that blew suddenly.

"Ron, you prat! Just drop!"

"No!"

With a snarl, Harry reached up and pried him roughly from the swaying broom, plunking him down in front of himself. Ron struggled a bit, but Harry placed his arms firmly around either side of him, holding onto the broom with two hands so that he couldn't escape and likely fall off again in haste. He flew them towards the ground. Ron stumbled out of his hold and away from him as soon as they landed on the grass.

"You're a git, you know that?" Harry snapped, shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

"You think so?"

"I know so," he said, shouldering his broom and scowling.

"Fine," growled Ron, marching into the house.

Harry waited a few moments before following suit.

::::::

Everyone at dinner that evening had noticed something odd going on, though they hadn't a clue as to what. Harry himself hardly knew. He, like the rest of them, couldn't help glancing at Ron every so often, but didn't so much as utter a word to him, and vice-versa. This carried on until Ron, without a word to any of them, stomped up the stairs to bed.

Harry gave it enough time, before heading up himself, for Ron to be able to pretend to be asleep if he wanted. Sure enough, when he ascended the staircase, leaving the questioning looks of the Weasleys behind him, he found that Ron's snores were a bit louder than normal.

He slipped underneath the blankets of his cot and rolled over to face the wall, still seething from that afternoon. After a few quiet moments in the dark, he began to have a thought...

If Ron couldn't handle something like this, then perhaps--it was because he didn't really want to be Harry's friend after all. Maybe he didn't actually like Harry enough to ride out this strange wave in their friendship, and didn't particularly care if they stayed friends. This notion greatly troubled Harry, who screwed up his face against his pillow and made a fist which he clenched--until he remembered that Ron had thrown himself in front of him on a severely broken leg when they had been confronted by Sirius Black the previous year.

 _If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!_

That was what he'd said.

Now Harry was confused. If Ron could handle being injured, being confronted by a "notorious mass murderer" in a room in the most haunted building in Britain, and still find the strength to show Harry extreme loyalty, then why did he snap if Harry showed him the slightest gesture of affection because of Fred and George?

Huffing in exasperation, Harry rolled onto his back and stared at the dark ceiling. Ron was no longer snoring. Harry suspected he had really fallen asleep.

With nothing else to do, he attempted to do the same.

::::::

Something poked him.

Something poked him again...What was that?

"Harry." Something poked him yet again.

Harry groaned, shying away from the offensive touch, burying his head further into the pillow...but no use. The something poked him again.

"Harry."

"Wha...?"

"Harry, wake up," someone whispered.

He grunted unintelligibly, opening one bleary eye. "Huh...?"

"C'mon, wake up." Now someone was shaking his shoulder. Harry fully opened both of his eyes, feeling rather disoriented.

"What?" he asked quickly, wishing to go back to sleep.

"Wake up!"

"I got that," he snapped. "What for?"

"I have to talk to you," Ron whispered. Harry blinked and shot upright, causing the blankets to fall from him; the room was a bit chilly. Luckily, his pajama top was warm enough...he looked at Ron, standing there next to his cot, with anxious expression on his face that made him want to cave to his every wish. He stamped on this urge, recalling all at once what had been said the day before.

"About what?" he asked cautiously, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "What's so important?"

"It's--" Ron started, twisting his fingers together, "er--well--I--" He stopped. Then, he said in a rush, "Look, I'm an idiot, Harry, and I wanted to tell you I'm sorry."

Harry sat there a moment, not quite trusting his own ears, as his brain was still a bit muddled.

"And--well--that's it, I suppose," Ron said when Harry continued to remain silent. The tips of his ears were flaming in the moonlight. "So, I'll just--go back to bed then."

"No, w-wait," Harry said, yawning widely. "Say that again?"

Ron appeared confused. "Why?" he asked, tilting his head a bit to the left.

"Not sure I heard correctly," Harry explained, half-believing that he was dreaming.

Ron scowled at him, but obliged. "I said I'm sorry. Really. I was being stupid."

A tentative, relieved smile broke out over Harry's face. He shook his head, ridding it of the last of the sleep that resided there. "Oh, er--" He wasn't really sure what to say. "Well. I thought you were, yeah. Thanks. Listen, I'm sorry, too, mate--"

Ron shook his head. "No--it was all me. I know there's nothing you can do about it. The thing is--" he paused, hesitating, it seemed. "The thing is that--that it doesn't really bother me."

"What doesn't?"

"When you, you know--act like a nut," Ron gestured, avoiding Harry's gaze.

"Then--" Harry started, not understanding, "what does bother you?"

Ron was most definitely not looking at him now. He shuffled his feet, staring hard at the floorboards. "It--the fact that--well, it's the fact that it doesn't bother me."

"What?" Harry asked, very confused. "Why does that bother you?"

Ron's head snapped up. He gave Harry an incredulous look. "What d'you mean, why does that bother me? Wouldn't it bother you?"

"Er," said Harry, wondering if he was supposed to say yes. Honestly, he had no idea what was so awful about it. 

Ron ran a hand through hair, looking terribly flustered now. "Merlin, Harry," he groaned. "Sometimes, you can be really thick..."

Harry was struggling to make sense of what Ron was trying to tell him. "But...why?" he eventually settled on asking.

"Because I don't mind! It's--it's--" Ron made a helpless gesture, his eyes pleading with Harry.

There was a pause. "Er--I still don't think I understand--" Harry said, but Ron interrupted him.

"You almost missed a catch for the first time in your life yesterday, just making sure I was okay," Ron said, now looking fully into Harry's face. "Will you listen? I like that. I _like_ when you ruffle my hair, and when you look at me all--all--" he gestured again, as if unable to find the words, "and when you--"

It was the way Ron was looking at him then (and his words), attentive and pleading, that activated Fred and George's charm once more, causing Harry to reach out and pull him into a fierce hug.

"--oomph!" continued Ron into his ear.

Harry pulled him swiftly and easily onto the cot so they both might be more comfortable. Ron shifted and settled into his side at once, and hid his face in Harry's shirt. He mumbled something indiscernible. 

"Sorry?" Harry whispered. "Didn't catch that."

"I said I like it when you do that, too," Ron whispered back, bunching the material of Harry's pajama shirt tightly in his fist. "So just go ahead and laugh."

But Harry didn't feel much like laughing. "I like it, too."

"Yeah, but you can't help it. I can."

Harry shrugged. "Doesn't bother me," he said rather tauntingly.

Ron sighed, lifting his head to look at him. "Forgive me, do you?" He sounded nervous.

"Course I do," Harry said, disbelieving that he could possibly fear otherwise. "I was--I was sort of worried that--"

"What?"

Harry couldn't bring himself to admit his fear from hours before. Not out loud.

"I--I still don't think you really understand," said Ron quietly, not pressing. "You're under this charm...anything I do and say seems cute and lovely to you and you can't resist, but I'm--I'm still me. This is me letting you hug me and be all--think about when I'm back to normal. How are you going to feel then?"

Harry thought about it. Was he still going to have the urge to run his fingers through the much taller Ron's hair? He would have to reach up to do so...had he ever wanted to before? He couldn't recall. Would he want to hug taller Ron? Would he still feel protective of him?

He didn't know any of the answers for certain. But one thing, however, he did.

"Listen, Ron," he said firmly. "You're my best mate. That's how I feel, and I expect that's how I'll always feel."

Ron was silent for a bit. Then he tucked his face into Harry's shirt again and said, "Right." He sounded very pleased.

"Sleep here tonight if you want," Harry told him. Ron nodded against him.

"This is mad," he revealed.

"I know," Harry agreed, removing a strand of hair from his forehead and brushing it back so that the tips of his fingers barely touched his scalp. Ron shivered slightly. Smirking, Harry repeated his actions and then began to trail the tips of his fingers over Ron's little back.

"I was talking about the fact that I have this whole bed over there and yet--"

"Mm," Harry hummed quietly. "I know."

"My mum used to do that," Ron breathed after a few moments.

"Really?" Harry asked, interested, fingertips trailing gently.

"Mm-hm," he said, and, once Harry had moved to a different spot, continued, "She would put everyone else to bed, and then come and tell Ginny and me a story. Ginny always fell asleep right away, so Mum would pick me up and finish the story off stroking my hair and my back just like that..." Ron said, sounding sleepy.

"Did it help you sleep?" Harry asked.

"Yeah...it did..."

And with a yawn, Ron nuzzled into him and fell fast asleep.

Harry rolled his eyes, smiling.

::::::

It was nearly lunch the next day when Fred and George deemed the antidote ready for consumption.

The both of them popped their fiery heads out of their bedroom doorway, glancing out into the hall beyond, just as Harry and Ron were passing to go out into the garden for a healthy round of de-gnoming.

"Ron," said George, "if you'd like to be near six foot again, please step this way. And Harry, of course. Can't have one without the other, can we?"

His eyes widening, Ron stepped into the room, followed by Harry. Fred closed the door behind them.

"Just in case something goes terribly wrong," he explained, shrugging.

"Is that likely?" Harry asked warily.

"We doubt it," said George, "but, as it is, the only subject available to test this baby--" He held up a small, cylinder-shaped sweet. "--is Ron, so there can be no certainties. So, are you ready?"

"Er--yes--" Ron gulped.

George held the sweet out to him, and he took it. Fred came to stand next to his twin; they crossed their arms and stared at Ron with expressions full of concentration and determination. This was, in all actuality, a rather serious matter for them, Harry realised.

Ron lifted the small sweet to his eyes, inspecting it closely, then sniffed it.

"Wait a moment," he said, looking worried. "W-what if I eat this--and get even smaller?"

Fred shook his head. "You're far more likely to turn into a newt or--"

"You're joking!" Ron burst out, starting towards him in anger; Harry held him back.

"Just making a point," Fred said, holding up his hands, but appearing quite unfazed. "Impossible. Now go ahead--eat it."

Ron squinted up at him and hesitantly raised it to his mouth, breathing on it. Harry watched, slightly anxious. Slowly, Ron opened his mouth, and popped the sweet inside without giving himself time to dwell upon what he was doing or what might occur. Harry held his breath, along with Fred and George. Ron now stood there chewing with his eyes shut tight, as if bracing himself for the worst possible outcome.

At almost the exact moment he swallowed, he began to shoot upwards and outwards. However, the joyful reaction they were all preparing did not burst forth, for as soon as Ron's growth became apparent, so did the fact that he was still wearing his shrunken garments. There was a terrible sound of ripping fabric before any of them could do anything about it.

"ARGH!" yelled Ron, his face screwed up in discomfort as his shirt burst open. He doubled over - his trousers were squeezing him, cutting off his air, before they too began ripping apart at the seams.

"Go fetch some robes from the wardrobe--" Fred said frantically to George, who dashed off to the wardrobe at once. Rummaging inside for a moment, he withdrew a set of second-hand robes and tossed them at Ron, who clutched at them. He pulled them hurriedly over his head just as one final ripping sound was heard. And Ron was finished growing. The robes hung there, too short on him; he hadn't Fred and George short and stocky build.

He stood there, normal-sized with his large hands and feet, his hair mussed and his mouth gaping. Eventually, he straightened his back for he had been slightly hunched. They all stared at him. There was a pause.

And they all burst into uncontrollable laughter.

::::::

Half an hour later found Harry and Ron sitting in Ron's room, avoiding each others' gazes, yet attempting to make some sort of normal conversation. It wasn't working too well.

"Er, Ron, I was wondering--" Harry stammered awkwardly, breaking a rather tense silence. "We're not--I mean, are we--?"

Now that Ron looked like the Ron he knew, Harry was finding it rather difficult not to feel humiliated and ashamed of the past couple of days.

Ron looked up then, and met Harry's eyes.

"We're all right," he said quickly. "Really, we are." He sighed, resting his elbows upon his knees. "Listen, I was never under that mad spell, remember? Everything I did or said was...me all the time. It's...me that needs to ask you..." he trailed off, flushing.

"Ask me what?" Harry bravely said, despite the fact that Ron's deep voice (deeper than it had been at least) was causing him to feel more and more guilty and embarrassed all the time.

"Well, you know, if you--meant anything that happened to--happen," Ron said, once again not looking at him.

Harry did not answer at first. He thought about stroking little Ron's hair...he thought about tickling him and (once) picking him up and spinning him around--and buried his own face in his hands to hide the humiliation that flared up inside him.

"I--I couldn't exactly stop myself," he told Ron through his fingers, his voice sounding muffled, "but I can't say that I--didn't mean it to happen."

"Mean what to happen, exactly?"

"Everything." Harry looked up. "You--you were irresistible, after all."

Ron ventured so far as to give him a half-smile. "So I've heard."

They were silent.

"But, Harry--what do you think? I mean, now that I'm tall and gangly and quite resistible again."

Harry opened his mouth, blinking. "I--well, I suppose I--hang on. What d'you mean?"

"Harry," said Ron, sighing heavily, "I mean, do you--do you still want to...?" He gestured between the two of them.

Harry, suddenly understanding, nodded at once, emphatically. Ron faltered. He probably hadn't expected the firm response.

"Oh," he stuttered, dropping an arm to his Cannons spread and tugging at a loose thread there. "Right." His ears were bright red; he was clearly hiding a smile. "Good."

Harry grinned, looking down at his fingers.

"I just thought this whole thing might've...you know," Ron said quietly.

Harry chuckled just as quietly. "Yeah, I suppose so. But hey," he added as an afterthought, "maybe we can look at it as a bonding experience." He affected a dramatic simpering tone.

Ron laughed. "Shut up."

"So...what shall we do now?" Harry asked after a moment.

Ron toyed with the loose thread on his bedspread, unresponsive. Then, he suddenly glanced up, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Would you say I'm considerably...taller than you?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Yes?" He didn't see what that had to do with anything.

"Bigger as well? Stronger."

"I'll agree with that first one," said Harry a bit grudgingly.

Ron suddenly bounded from his bed and Harry let out a noise of surprise as he lunged towards him and pinned him to his cot. 

Ron had one knee pressed into his middle; Harry stared up at him, affronted and stunned. He struggled to get up, but Ron held him firmly down and attacked.

Harry found that he could not draw air to breathe as his ribs were met with flying fingers--it was the oddest sensation--he was forced to laugh, though he was twisting and turning every way he could to escape. It was like torture, only he felt that he could endure it. His muscles spasmed--

"Get--get--get off, Ron--RON--now is-- _is not the time_ \--!" Harry, understanding now, laughed until he feared his throat would tear. His stomach hurt. And it was only after all the fight had gone from him that Ron relented, standing up and offering his hand with a wide grin.

Harry, breathing hard, took it, and, without warning, was swiftly pulled to his feet and into his very first kiss.

"Mm," he grunted, utterly shocked. Ron cupped his face, tilting it upwards, knocking his glasses askew in the process. Harry allowed them to fall to the ground. Completely at a loss for what to do, Harry clutched at Ron's forearms.

They broke apart after what felt like about six horribly long seconds, but Ron didn't let go of his face. Harry slowly opened his eyes, feeling slightly dizzy. Ron's blurry face was looking down at him uncertainly, he could tell. Harry gulped.

"Um," he said, still having not quite caught his breath. 

Ron moved away, bent to pick up something off the ground. He shoved Harry's glasses back onto his face and fell back a step.

Harry's vision restored, he looked up at Ron in horror. To his immense relief, he saw the same horror reflected in Ron's gaze. Their eyes met.

Simultaneously, they shook their heads as if to say _Nope, nope, absolutely not._

::::::

"Harry's a little bummed that Ron's gone back to normal," Fred informed the table at dinner that night. Hermione was there, sitting in between Percy and Ginny; she had arrived that afternoon, much to Harry's and Ron's delight, and had since been fully informed about the events of the past few days. She, unsurprisingly, did not find it amusing in the least. ("But that was so _dangerous,_ giving you a sweet like that, untested! Oh, what _were_ they thinking!")

"What? No, I'm not," said Harry.

"It's okay - we all know how much you liked being the taller one for a change," George joked. Everyone chuckled at that.

Harry flicked some of his potatoes at him, much to Mrs Weasley's disapproval. George ducked, grinning. "Sorry, Mrs. Weasley."

"But Harry was very attached to little Ron, wasn't he?" threw in Fred once more. "Doted upon his every wish worse than Mum, I reckon."

"Shut up," Harry hissed, feeling the embarrassment creep up on him as it had done all day.

"Leave the boy alone," said Mr Weasley good-naturedly, seated at the end of the wooden table. Harry experienced a rush of gratitude. "We all went a bit batty there for a moment, didn't we?"

"Yeah, but why did Harry go so batty?" asked George, teasing. "Something you want to tell us, Harry?"

"Yeah, that you're a great prick," said Ron, glaring murderously at him. Ginny looked between them, looking oddly stricken. 

"That's enough," said Mrs Weasley mildly, scooping more potatoes onto Harry's plate.

" _Honestly_ ," Hermione added. "Haven't you two the tiniest ounce of empathy? You're both as bad as Ron!"

"Oi!" came Ron's offended voice.

Everyone looked at her. Harry furrowed his eyebrows. She shifted under the attention, but didn't back down. 

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" she said. "Harry doesn't have family. Decent family," she corrected herself, glancing apologetically at Harry. "And he was never allowed to have friends. Ron's the first proper friend he's had _,_ and he's really a very good one"--at this Ron choked; Hermione shot him an annoyed look--"so, of course, Harry's especially attached to him. He probably loves him more than most of you do!"

Harry's face burned, but he couldn't deny the truth of the words. He glanced up and met Ron's (who seemed just as embarrassed) eye. 

It seemed to put an end to the teasing.

"Potatoes, Hermione, dear?" Mrs Weasley offered her the bowl, her tone very fond.

::::::

"You know," Harry said privately to Hermione on the stairs landing, just before bedtime. Ginny had just disappeared into her bedroom. "I reckon you're right."

Hermione looked at him quizzically. She stood outside of Charlie's old bedroom, already dressed in pajamas, a mug of tea in her hand.

"About the Ron thing," he clarified, lowering his voice. "I went really mad, Hermione, it was like--like I--" He broke off, unable to voice exactly what he'd felt when Ron was charmed. "I'd been trying to figure it out. And, Ron, well. Listen, something happened. I think he thought maybe we were--that I--"

Hermione tilted her head, waiting patiently. 

"He kissed me," Harry said in a rush, whispering and glancing about to make sure no one was around to hear.

Hermione blinked, her eyebrows jumping. "He _kissed_ you?" she nearly shrieked. Harry shushed her, looking around again, and nudged her into Charlie's room. He closed the door behind them and whirled around. Hermione, who had set her tea on the nearest piece of furniture, lifted her hands to her mouth. 

"Yes," he whispered, his face hot, "and it was awful. Truly. It came out of nowhere--"

"What did you _do_?"

"Nothing," said Harry hastily, "nothing, it was over before I knew what was happening. I think it scared us both--I think he only did it to be sure all this wasn't-- _that._ He must have thought it was--"

Hermione's shocked expression turned thoughtful, and then understanding seemed to dawn on her.

"Oh, Harry..." she sighed. 

"What?" Harry looked to her a little desperately.

"He just didn't realise you loved him that much," she told him, her eyes soft.

Harry stared at her, blinking. "So he kissed me?"

"Maybe he was a little confused," she said, conceding the point. "He's not used to all that attention. Nor is he used to being the favourite. He's got loads of siblings and his best friend is Harry Potter, for God sakes--but _you_ love him more than anyone. You choose him over everyone. He's never known what that's like. He feels special."

Hermione's eyes shone. Harry shifted on his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. He had to admit she had a point.

"Well--" His voice was hoarse and his heart was aching oddly. But Hermione spoke again.

"Talk to him," she said gently. "Now, before bed." She nudged him towards the door. Harry opened it and looked back. 

"How do you _know_ this stuff?"

"Don't go to sleep without talking to him," Hermione ordered firmly, pointing.

Nodding, Harry left, closing the door behind him.

On the landing, he bumped into Ron, who was just coming up the stairs from the kitchen.

"Harry!" Ron said in surprise. He looked behind him at Charlie's closed door and narrowed his eyes in dark suspicion. "What were you doing in there?" He looked at Harry so intently and so accusingly that Harry nearly laughed.

All at once, he realised that Hermione was probably right about all this. Girls were very strange about these things...

"Nothing, come on," he said.

Ron regarded him with suspicion all the way to his room.

Upon entering, Hedwig greeted them from the window with a gentle hoot. Harry crossed the room to her cage, pleased, and stroked her feathers.

"Hi there," he said to her. "Where have you been, hm?" She nipped affectionately at his fingers.

Ron stopped in the doorway. 

Harry looked up; the room was dark, making it quite impossible to see much more than the vibrant red hair and shadowed features, but he knew that Ron was looking at him as well.

"Look, Harry..." Ron started, sounding distinctly awkward. "About earlier..."

Harry shook his head at these words. "No. Really, Ron. It's fine."

Ron shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "I shouldn't have--"

"Maybe it's best that you did." Harry paused. "I was sort of wondering myself. Now we know."

Ron seemed to hesitate, still standing in the doorway. "Yeah," he said after a few moments. "It's just that...it was nice." When he next spoke, Harry could hear the smile in his voice. "You know. I didn't know you liked me so much."

Harry grinned at Hedwig, who looked at him with exasperation. Hermione was definitely right, then. He understood then and there that girls were geniuses. Leaving Hedwig, Harry wandered over to the doorway and squeezed Ron's shoulder.

"Well then, you're an idiot," he said somberly, as if he were delivering terrible news. Ron laughed. And then, as if by mutual agreement, they both leaned forward; they hugged each other tightly.

"But seriously, let's never speak of this again," said Harry when they broke apart. 

"Done, mate," Ron agreed, sounding relieved. 

**Author's Note:**

> And then they go on to Hogwarts, where Ron is chosen as the thing Harry would miss most for the Second Task in the Triwizard Tournament. Awww, his Weezy.


End file.
